


Stop the world, I want to get off.

by Sans_Virtuosity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Budding Love, Cullen losing his composure, Daily Writing, F/M, Gen, I headcanon that the withdrawal gives him trouble with remembering names, No Spoilers, One Shot, Pre-Skyhold, Untrained Mage, just barely, not edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Virtuosity/pseuds/Sans_Virtuosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Herald's horse returns without her, and the Commander can't help but be worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop the world, I want to get off.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my Daily Writing entries that I thought you guys would enjoy.  
> So, enjoy!
> 
> Also, if you see any glaring mistakes in my grammar or spelling or anything, just let me know; I'll fix it! (Don't suffer in silence!)

 

* * *

 

 

The horse came back alone. It was all so surreal. Just an hour ago, the Herald was smiling at him from astride her favorite destrier, and he foolishly stammered his way through a quick "stay safe".

He should have sent someone with her. Maker's breath, he should have followed her himself. Haven itself wasn't particularly dangerous, but the surrounding forests harbored all sorts of deadly fauna just waiting for an unwitting meal to fall into their territory.

Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps she sent the horse on ahead, for some incomprehensible reason. Perhaps the horse grew tired of her poor riding, and finally bucked her off.

Perhaps. But he knew that wasn't the truth. She was out there in the snow, injured or worse, and here he stands dumbstruck like the fool he is, the reins of her powerful chestnut balled tightly in his fists.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and buried the building terror that threatened to crawl up his spine with every heartbeat. He finally turned to the men on the wall and shouted, "The Herald has been compromised. I need men willing to scout the woods. Now."

Being the Commander was decidedly much easier than being Cullen.

He inhaled deeply, and stalked over to the makeshift armory, horse in tow. His blade had needed polishing -he tried hard not to imagine the Herald joking about the potential euphemism- and he hadn't the time to care for it himself, with all the paperwork and recruits flooding in after the Chantry publicly denounced the Inquisition, so he left it in the care of the resident blacksmith for the time being. His shield was holed away in his quarters, only seeing action when the time came to personally knock some skill into his recruits. He didn't have the time to send for it. His blade would have to do for now. He hoped it wouldn't even come to that.

With a few curt words, Cullen appropriated his blade, and slid it home into his belt. The weight was familiar, and he absently vowed to keep it at his side from now on. He would make time for its upkeep.

Without missing a beat, he tightened the buckles of his armor and pulled himself into the chestnut's saddle. The horse seemed wary of his new rider, but after a minute of adjusting, stood as proudly as always. Cullen watched for a moment as snowflakes melted into the horse's mane. His ever-present headache was beginning to worsen, and he feared that the longer the Herald -Amelia... Amelia. Amelia Trevelyan- remained missing, the sharper it would get.

He pulled on the reins and kicked the horse into motion, turning sharply to the west gate. His men would follow. For now, he would be enough.

Tracing the horse's previous path through the snow, he weaved through the forest. Judging by the sheer amount of snow kicked up on horse's journey back to Haven, he was sure the horse had been moving pretty quickly, a feat unto itself considering the density of the forest trees.

"What in Andraste's name were you running from?" He whispered.

And then he saw it. He turned into a clearing, the first he'd seen since entering the forest, and immediately pulled hard on the reins, stopping the horse in his tracks.

In the center of the clearing, the largest bear he had ever seen in his life circled a tower of ice, perfectly cylindrical and definitely magical in origin, occasionally pawing at the base of it and growling in frustration. The top of the tower was flat, and from the edge, her legs hanging precariously off the side, Amelia threw lazy bolts of lightning at the bear, only serving to provoke him further.

The whole scene just made his head hurt worse. But the relief at seeing Amelia in one living, breathing piece quickly overshadowed the absurdity.

Her horse shuffled backwards, clearly terrified by the monstrous creature trying to hunt his mistress. Cullen dismounted as quietly as he could, careful not to jostle his breastplate. The horse immediately pulled away from him and took off, presumably back to Haven, and he cursed under his breath. Damned thing was not the horse he would've chosen as a scouting companion. He would have a world with the Herald later, for sure. After he brought her home safely.

The bear was huge, nearly twice his height from nose to tail. Armed with only his longsword and a litany of blasphemous curses, there was no way he could kill the creature on his own. With Amelia's magic, however-

Which brought him to wonder why she hadn't just killed it from her perch on the tower. She was in the perfect position, with a clear advantage and full range of sight.

But then he felt it. It was dull, but from where he stood, he could feel the soft vibrations of sustained magic, originating from the tower and rippling outward. Her strength was being focused on maintaining the tower, instead of conserving mana for a killing strike on the monster that even now would not give up trying to attack her. She was inexperienced in the use of magic as a weapon, thanks to a safe and sheltered upbringing in the Circle. He nearly regretted it.

His reinforcements would find him soon enough, but his impatience and overwhelming desire to hear the Herald's voice again overrode the rational part of his brain, and before he realized it, he was charging at the beast, sword drawn and a roar tearing from his throat.

The bear lazily turned towards the newcomer, and before it could register the threat, Cullen smashed the hilt of his blade into its skull. The monster dropped to the snow, dazed.

Cullen turned upwards to the Herald -Amelia, she told him. Amelia.- and shouted,

"Before he can recover, take him out!" She looked confused. "Use your spells!"

With a rueful smile, she released her hold on the tower, and it crumbled into the earth as though it had never been there. She sprang to her feet, brushed ice shards off her robes, and raised her hands in the air.

There was a pause, and then an overwhelming pressure in the air as she called forth a lightning storm directly over the prone bear. Cullen fought the desire to silence the magic that crawled along his skin, dragging it's nails along old scars, threatening to tear them anew.

The storm stopped as suddenly as it began. The smell of burnt flesh nearly gagged him, but he reveled in the knowledge that the threat to the Herald was finally taken care of.

He turned to her, to tell her- to tell her what? That the thought of losing her drove him to ride through the forest like a madman, imagining all of the terrible ways she could have died? That she meant more to him than just the mark on her hand?

She chuckled, clearly not sensing his inner turmoil. "That could have been bad."

"Maker, Amelia. I find your horse return without his rider, already assuming the worst, and you say 'That could have been bad'." He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing this whole experience had never even occurred. "I was-" Terrified. Sick with worry. Afraid I'd never see you again.

"I know." She said simply.

He heard her boots crunch the snow, and before he could find the courage to open his eyes without giving too much of himself away, he felt her breath against his neck for a fraction of a second before she followed with a quick kiss to his jaw.

His eyes flew open, and he could feel his face flush. He opened his mouth to scold her, but before he could get the words out, she already took off for the treeline, laughing wildly. With a shake of his head, he jogged after her, his headache fading in the simple joy of being alive.

 

* * *

 


End file.
